


Twas the Night Before

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Skinner is alone for Christmas in a cabin when Mulder shows up.  A fireplace and some brandy make for an interesting finish.





	Twas the Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Twas the Night Before . . . by Tristain VanDial

ArchiveX: 16 August 1998  
"Twas the Night Before . . ."  
by Tristain VanDial  
  
NC/17, Mulder/Skinner, romance/slash,  
Skinner is alone for Christmas in a cabin when Mulder shows up. A fireplace and some brandy make for an interesting finish.

* * *

Walter Skinner sat at the old dinette looking out at the falling snow. He absently played with a steaming cup of fresh coffee which sat before him. The flakes of snow were getting bigger. Outside, the firs that surrounded the cabin were being covered at a brisk rate. He loved coming here. As a child his parents had brought him to this mountain cabin to celebrate Christmas every year. Those were good times.

Now that he was divorced, this was the only place he could think of to spend the upcoming holiday season. If he had to be alone, then here was where he wanted to be. * At least there won't be any sympathetic looks from my co-workers.* The thought of people feeling obligated to invite him to parties and holiday gatherings out of sympathy, made him sick. *This is where I need to be,* he sighed.

The drive up from Washington, D.C. had taken about a day. To avoid the Christmas traffic he had assiduously taken the less traveled roadways to the mountains of Vermont. Actually, he had a good time on the drive. He found a station on the radio that was playing all the old classic Christmas songs. Singing along with Bing Crosby, to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" had made him forget the loneliness that was festering inside of him.

Reaching the little town at the base of Old Windsor Mountain, he had stopped to buy provisions that would see him through the two weeks he planned to stay at the cabin. After he had loaded the supplies into his jeep, he decided to call his secretary at FBI headquarters to make sure everything was all right. There was no telephone at the cabin and he had stupidly left his cell phone in his apartment.

"Deputy Inspector, everything is fine. No messages, except one from Special Agent Mulder," the pedantic voice of his secretary informed him. The mention of Mulder's name had caused him to blush. Why did he feel such tension everytime he encountered the younger man? In his mind the face of Fox Mulder formed. God how he would like to take that pouting mouth and . . ." 

"Deputy Inspector are you still there?"

"Ummm, yes," he remembered replying.

"Special Agent Mulder had finished the file on the Kingston Case, and he wanted your opinion on it. He seemed upset when I told him you were out of town. When he heard you'd be gone until after the New Year, he wanted to know where you were. Since you didn't indicate to me that it was a secret, I told him," her voice sounded sheepish over the phone.

"What did he say to that?" 

"His exact words were: `Cabin? Vermont? Why in the hell would anyone want to go to the middle of a wilderness in a snowstorm?' He was still muttering as he left. He took the file with him." 

"It's not your fault. Special Agent Mulder marches to the beat of his own drummer. I forgot my cell phone. If you need to get in touch with me, call the police station at Brightwater and ask them to relay a message to me," he had instructed her, and then hung up the phone.

That had been two days ago, and he was still thinking of Mulder. He had even awakened in the middle of the night with Mulder's name on his lips. He reddened again as he remembered how excited he was. *What's the matter with me? Why am I fantasizing about Fox Mulder?* He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. As he put them back on, he noticed the steaming mug in front of him. Picking it up he toasted his reflection in the window, "Merry Christmas." The snow was coming down faster. A blanket of white covered everything. *A typical New England Christmas. Why don't I feel like celebrating?*

"What a year this has been," he said outloud to himself. "I finalize my divorce and I discover my attraction to one of my male agents. Peace on Earth, indeed." 

He gulped down the warm coffee and headed for the attic. This was Christmas and by God, he would at least make a valiant effort to celebrate it. He remembered helping his mother store the Christmas decorations in the attic. Of course, that had been over thirty-five years ago. *I hope they're still there. Why wouldn't they be?* The only people who had been at the cabin since his parents' death eleven years ago, had been his wife and himself. Surely, they would still be there. 

As he opened the attic door and ran up the steps, he remembered how much fun he had had as a small boy. He had loved going up to the attic and getting the decorations. That feeling filled him again. Making his way to the trunk that held so many good memories, he wished that Mulder could be here with him. "Stop thinking that way," he scolded himself. The old trunk lid creaked as he opened it. A layer of yellowed, crumbling newspapers covered the top. He took one and looked at the date, December 20, 1960. A smile crossed his face as he removed the rest of the newspapers. 

The glittery shine of polished glass struck his eyes. They were still here. A feeling of warmth flooded over him. *Damn, maybe this will be a great holiday season,* he thought to himself. It took three trips to bring down all the decorations. He laid them out in the living room by the big picture window. That's where he had decided to place the tree. He would go out and chop one down just like he and his mother and father had done long ago.

        "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas,   
        Just like the Ones I used to know . . ." 

He sang with a smile on his face.   
          
* * * * * * * * * *

The giant flakes of snow hitting the windshield of his car made seeing where he was driving difficult. The roadway had transformed into a ribbon of white stretching out before him. Luckily, there wasn't much traffic. *There are some perks to it being Christmas Eve. *A map lay unfolded on the passenger seat. He peered down at it as he came to an intersection. "Yeah, turn right on state highway 103", he muttered. It looked like about twenty-six more miles to Brightwater. 

Why he was going to Deputy Inspector Skinner's cabin on Christmas Eve was a puzzle even to him. Fox Mulder looked into the rearview mirror and scolded himself, "You're an ass. A stupid one at that." What was it about Walter Skinner that made his stomach feel like it was filled with butterflies everytime he thought of the man? Why was it that whenever he saw the older man, he was drawn to those deep, sparkling eyes? Worse yet, why did he often imagine what Skinner looked like naked? 

Gender meant little to him. True, he had always thought of himself as being heterosexual, but the idea of his boss naked made him suspect that perhaps he wasn't exclusively that way. He felt the warmth rise in his groin as he thought about Walter Skinner. *Why in the hell am I going to his cabin? There's not one sensible reason for me to be doing this.* He moved the map and looked down at the Kingston folder. *He did say he wanted to look over this. Well, I'm bringing it to him to do just that.*

To keep his mind from dwelling on Skinner, he turned on the radio. The cheerful notes of Christmas music filled the car. To his surprise, Mulder found himself singing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," along with Bing Crosby. He didn't even like Christmas. This holiday stuff was way too much bother and hoopla.

It was beginning to be more difficult to see the roadway. The snow was piling up higher. Luckily, he would be in Brightwater in a few minutes, and then, he would find Skinner's cabin. To the sentimental words of "I'll Be Home for Christmas," Mulder pulled into the little village. The twinkling lights of Christmas decorations seemed to be everywhere. Even though he thought them a waste, he couldn't help but feel a stirring deep inside.

As he passed the brightly flashing Christmas tree in the town square, his eyes were drawn to the large star on top of it. For a minute he felt sadness. His father's death and his mother's near death had left him emotionally shaken. Scully's cancer and the thought of losing her--his best friend--had almost pushed him over the edge. *What a shitty life.* But then, as he thought of Walter, he felt a different stirring.

He brought his car to a stop in front of the police station and waded through the deep snow to reach the entrance. Once inside, he brushed the snow from his hair.

"Merry Christmas! How can I help you?" asked a cheerful voice.

Zeroing in on the voice, Mulder looked over in a corner and saw a man sitting next to a small Christmas tree eating cookies, "I need to get to Walter Skinner's cabin."

"What for?"

Mulder pulled out his FBI badge and held it up, "Official business."

Sighing the officer replied, "Not even Christmas can stop you guys." He then proceeded to draw a map to Skinner's cabin. "Now, you'd better be careful. We've had a wad of snow, and it's deep. According to the weather, it ain't supposed to stop snowing `til sometime next week. Once you get up there, you just might not make it back down until the snow plows open the road."

"Thanks, and oh, Merry Christmas," said Mulder as he took the map and exited. 

He made his way back to his car. The icy coldness hit his face and made him shiver. *I should've put on boots,* he thought as he felt the snow work its way into his shoes. As he shut the door of his car, he looked in the mirror. Grimacing at the sight of the snow on his head, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. "Damn snow!" he said to the reflection looking back at him. 

Five minutes later, as he was slowly making his way up the mountainside, his car hit an icy spot and he lost control. First, the small car lurched to the right and then it careened backward and slid into the ditch. "Shit!" he shouted. Gunning the accelerator, he tried to move forward. Nothing happened. The smell of burning rubber filled the car. Mulder opened the door and stepped outside. One look told him everything he needed to know. Reaching back inside, he grabbed the Kingston folder and pulled the keys from the ignition. He slammed the door shut and began to walk. 

His feet were freezing and he couldn't feel his nose anymore. The light was fading fast. "Where is that cabin? It can't be much further," Mulder mumbled outloud to himself. Pulling his coat tighter, he continued to trudge through the knee deep snow. Just as he thought that he would turn around and head back to the car, he saw a vague outline through the trees. It was a cabin. Coming from its windows was the inviting yellow glow of candle light. 

"This must be it," he said, shivering like a wet puppy. Doing his best to run, he made his way to the porch. Wasting no time, he pounded on the door. It swung open, and there standing with tinsel garland wrapped around his neck was Walter Skinner. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Skinner peered out at the snow encrusted form in front of him. Who could it be? Suddenly, recognition dawned on him and he blurted out, "Mulder! What are you doing here?" 

"Well, sir, right now I'm freezing my ass off. Mind if I come in?" 

Clearing his throat, Skinner replied, "Sure, come in. You look like you walked up here." 

Mulder stepped by his boss and into the waiting warmth of the cabin. Turning to face the Deputy Director, he smirked and said, "The garland goes well with your warm -ups, sir." 

"I was decorating my Christmas tree," the older man replied as he hastily tossed the garland onto a chair. "Take off that coat," he commanded as he closed the door. 

As Mulder was complying, globs of melted snow fell off the coat and onto the floor. Even bathed in the room's warmth, he was still shaking from the cold. 

"You're soaked to the bone, Mulder. We'd better get you out of those wet clothes and into something warm and dry or you'll catch a cold," Walter cautioned. 

In reply, Mulder sneezed, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But I didn't bring any clothes with me." 

"No problem, you can wear one of my sweat suits. It'll be way too big for you, but at least you'll be dry and comfortable." 

Reaching into his wet coat, Mulder pulled out a folder. "Here's the folder you wanted to look over, sir." 

"The what?" asked his boss.

"The folder over the Kingston affair," Mulder replied.

"You drove all the way up here just to bring me this? Are you insane?" 

Fox Mulder shrugged his shoulders and cocked one eyebrow upwards. He was still feeling cold, and his toes and fingers ached. "About those dry clothes, sir." 

"Oh yes, follow me upstairs. Sorry about the candlelight, but the power went out late this afternoon. All the snow I suppose," he said nervously. 

The snow You mean the blizzard," Mulder interrupted. "My car is stuck in a ditch halfway down the mountain. I don't think I'll be able to get it out until the snow plows dig it out. Is it all right if I stay here for the night?" 

Flushing in the dim light, Walter Skinner replied, "No problem, Mulder." 

"Sir," the younger man said. 

"Yes?" 

"Merry Christmas!" 

Skinner couldn't help but smile at Mulder's last comment. "Merry Christmas to you, Fox," he replied. He picked up a candle, and led Mulder up the stairs to his bedroom. Once there, he lit another candle on the dresser and began to rummage through the drawers for another set of warm-ups. Finding what he was searching for, he tossed them to the younger man. "You can hang your things in the bathroom," he said pointing at the door in the corner. 

"No problem," replied Mulder as he began to peel the wet clothes off. 

Skinner turned to leave the room, but stopped. He was taken aback by the almost nude form of Mulder standing in the corner of the room. A warmth flooded him as he gazed longingly upon the body of the younger man. He felt himself becoming erect. *Damn! Not now.* "You'll find socks in the top drawer of the chest. When you've changed, come on down." Abruptly he turned again and was out the door. 

Mulder couldn't decide if he'd really seen Skinner reddening when he looked at him. *You're just hoping, you idiot. Walter Skinner, Deputy Director, is not interested in you.* While he fished around for a pair of socks, his gaze fell onto the bed. It was one of those old Victorian beds with a canopy. *Wouldn't it be . . .* He stopped and slapped himself. "What's the matter with me," he whispered. 

As he was making his way down the stairs, he heard the sound of Skinner singing. It wasn't the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but it was filled with warmth. At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and looked at his boss outlined by the soft glow of the candles. Walter was busy hanging Christmas ornaments on a big tree in front of the window. He was having a great time. 

Fox Mulder felt a yearning deep inside of him. "Not bad, sir," he said, as the older man turned. 

"Thanks, Mulder." he answered back, and added, "It's Walter. We're not at work, and we've known each other for years." He began to laugh. "You look like a stick in those clothes." 

"At least they're warm and dry. Got anything to eat?" 

"I was just about to fix myself a sandwich. Why don't you join me?" Skinner said as he led the way to the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, he directed Mulder to sit at the table. "Ham or bologna?" he asked. 

"Ham." 

"Mayo or mustard?" 

"Both." 

The older man returned to the table with his arms full. "Don't just sit there, help me." 

Mulder reached up and took the mayo and mustard from Skinner's arms. "Where's the bread?" 

Over there, Skinner pointed his head in the direction of the sink. "How about some mulled cider?" 

"Sounds great. Wheat or rye?" 

"Rye for me," answered Skinner. 

"Me too," Mulder agreed. 

As they sat eating their sandwiches, Skinner looked at Mulder. 

"What?" the younger man asked, feeling awkward. 

"Why did you come up here, Mulder? Don't give me any crap about having me see a folder. You and I both know that could've waited. Why did you follow me up here on Christmas Eve in the middle of the worst snow storm in years?" 

Mulder felt himself squirm. He avoided eye contact with Skinner. *Because you idiot, I want you. I need you.* The silence became painful. "I didn't want to be alone," he managed to say softly. 

"What?" 

"I said I didn't want to be alone on Christmas, and I kind of figured you didn't want to be alone either," Mulder blurted out. 

"What about Scully or your mother?" 

"Scully went on a Christmas cruise with her mother, and my mother and her new boyfriend went to England to spend Christmas with his family," Mulder replied staring out the window. 

Skinner placed his hand on the younger man's hand and was surprised when Mulder made no attempt to move it. "I'm glad you came, Fox. You can help me finish decorating the tree. Then, we'll make some popcorn in the fireplace and drink some warm brandy. Hell, we may even sing some Christmas songs." 

"Hey, I don't do singing," Mulder said smiling at Skinner. The soft light of the candles made the older man more handsome than usual. Again, he felt the warmth spreading from his groin upwards. *To hell with the popcorn by the fireplace. I'd like to lay in front of it wrapped in your arms.* "Let's have a look at that tree, sir--I mean, Walter." 

They both got up, and as Mulder passed by him, Skinner placed his arm on the younger man's shoulder. Mulder turned around and smiled at Skinner. For the first time in many months, Walter Skinner felt something bubbling up inside of him--happiness. 

Mulder walked up to the fireplace which was crackling and popping sending showers of sparks up the flu. He stood close to the fire and its warmth, admiring the partially decorated Christmas tree. It was at least ten feet tall. 

"Where'd you get that tree?" he asked. 

Walter gave him a telling look and answered, "I went out yesterday and chopped it down." 

"Whoa, Paul Bunyon Skinner," chuckled the younger man. "If you don't mind my asking, why so big?" 

"A Christmas tree is supposed to be big. Didn't you ever have a big tree when you were a child?" 

"Nope," Mulder replied. 

Skinner walked over to a box and took out a shiny bulb. He carefully hung it on the tree. "Come on over here, Fox, and help me." 

Mulder hesitated. He didn't want to leave the warmth of the fire, but Walter's hopeful expression convinced him to help. He walked over to the box and picked up a small star. Studying the tree, he found a bare place and hung it. 

"Bravo!" clapped Walter. 

Bowing, Mulder took another star and placed it with care. "I could learn to like this," he said, actually enjoying himself.

It took less than fifteen minutes to hang the rest of the decorations. "That's the last one. Not bad looking, not bad at all," the younger man said, stepping back and admiring the tree. 

"We're not done yet," Walter stated. "There's still one more thing to do." 

"What?" 

"The big star that fits on top of the tree needs to be placed. As my official guest, you the honor. I'll go into the kitchen and get a chair so you can reach the top." Walter said as he headed out of the room. 

*I'm really enjoying myself.* Mulder sat on the sofa that faced the tree and admired it. The flickering light from the candles and the fireplace danced off the glass ornaments. *Beautiful.*

Skinner came into the room carrying a kitchen chair. "The star's in that box," he said, pointing to a hatbox that rested on the arm of the sofa. "Get it out, please." 

Mulder opened the box and took out the star. It was a large one, made of gold foil. "I've got it. Now what?" 

"Climb up in the chair and place it the top branch. Don't worry you won't fall. I'll hold you." 

Carefully, Mulder got up in the chair and started to lean forward.

"Wait a second, let me grab hold of you," said Skinner.

Mulder felt Walter's strong arms encircle his hips. They pressed down on his penis causing him to suck in his breath. *God, this is going to be harder than I thought.* 

"I've got you. Go ahead and place the star. That's it. No, it's crooked, straighten it up a little. No, more towards the window," instructed the older man.

Skinner didn't want this moment to end. He tightened his arms as he became aware of the large bulge of the younger man's cock. His own shaft began to throb with need. 

"I'm done Walter. You can let me down. Walter, are you listening to me?"

Snapped out of his daze, Skinner reluctantly let go of Mulder. "Good job, Fox."

"I'll take the chair back into the kitchen," said Mulder, turning away from Skinner in hopes that the older man would not see his obvious erection.

"Sure. I'll make us a couple of snifters of brandy."

"Sounds great," replied Mulder as he carried the chair out.

The golden liquid flowed from the decanter as Skinner filled two snifters. He turned and looked at the fireplace and the brightly burning logs that were in it. His eyes focused on the old bear skin rug that lay in front of it. 

"What are you staring at Walter?"

"The fire," replied the older man. He picked up the glasses and handed one to Mulder. "Don't drink it fast. Fine brandy is supposed to be sipped and enjoyed."

Mulder brought the snifter to his lips and did as Walter had instructed him. The brandy warmed him as it touched his lips. "This isn't bad."

Laughing at the younger man's apparent sign of approval, Skinner sipped his own brandy. He loved the way it felt going down his throat. "Come sit on the rug in front of the fire," he asked, afraid that Mulder would say no.

"Sounds good to me," the younger man said as he walked over and sat down. "Blow out the candles. The light from the fire will be enough."

Skinner blew out the candles and then grabbed the decanter of brandy and joined the younger man. The room danced with the shadows the fire created.

 "Hey, there's plenty of room Walter." Mulder looked up at him, the fire reflecting in his eyes.

"More brandy?"

"Yes, please," Mulder replied looking into the fire.<

As he poured more of the liquid into Mulder's glass, he asked, "What are you staring at?"

"Two lonely people."<

Skinner's empty glass slipped from his hand and bounced on the rug. Both men reached for it at the same time. As their hands touched, both turned and looked into each other's eyes. The silence between them was deafening. Both acted as though they were frozen.

Skinner made the first move. He stroked his hand up Mulder's arm until he held the younger man's face. Mulder reached over and removed Walter's glasses and laid them on the table behind him. Then, he quickly turned around. Before Walter Skinner could respond, Fox Mulder's mouth was on the lips of the older man. 

Walter didn't move. *He's not reacting. What have I done. I've misread him.* Mulder pulled away, "I'm sorry Walter, I didn't mean to . . ." He could say no more because Skinner had him pinned on the floor, kissing him with a passion he had only dreamed about.

The older man slid his tongue into the waiting mouth. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the rapid breathing of two men locked in passion. Skinner placed a hand on Mulder's groin and caressed the large throbbing organ clearly evident there.

Mulder's hands were pressed against Skinner's hips, pulling him closer. "Touch me Walter," he said breathlessly.

Skinner ran his hand down into the sweat pants and smiled. "You didn't put on any underwear."

The younger man winked.

In no time, Skinner had pulled Mulder's pants off. He had the younger man's firm cock in his hand. Gently, he began to squeeze it. His own penis was aching to be released.

"These clothes have got to go," Mulder panted as he tugged the sweatshirt over his head. 

Skinner followed suit, and soon both were lying naked on the rug. The warmth of the fire mixed with the desire that burned in their souls. Mulder pressed Skinner onto his back. With his tongue, the younger man began to work his way down Skinner's body. At each nipple, he stopped and sucked, sending shivers of ecstasy up and down Walter's spine. As his mouth reached the tip of the older man's penis, Skinner arched his hips upward, wanting to feel those lips around his waiting cock.

He didn't have to wait long. In one smooth movement, Mulder devoured him. Flicking his tongue against the tip of the older man's jutting erection almost caused Skinner to go over the edge. He grabbed Mulder's head in his hands and held him in place as he began to pump his hips upward.

Skinner's thrusts became more urgent as Mulder continued to suck him. Then in a blinding moment, he orgasmed into the younger man's mouth, letting out a whimper as he continued to cum.

Mulder couldn't believe how much hot liquid came from Skinner. He savored each drop. When there was no more, he released the now flaccid organ and rolled to lie beside the other man.

"We're not done yet," said Skinner. "Now it's your turn." 

As quick as Mulder had been, Skinner proved to be quicker. The older man was kissing Mulder's cock. He tongue went up and down the long shaft. Finally, he swallowed the throbbing organ. 

All Mulder could do was lie back and groan. "Walter, you really know how to treat a guest," he managed to say. The force of Skinner's mouth massaging his cock, sent him into spasms. He spilled inside Walter's hot mouth. 

As he lay shaking, Mulder reached down and touched Skinner's face, "For an older man, you're not bad."

"You're no slouch yourself," replied Walter.

Skinner pulled himself alongside the younger man and placed his arms around him. He drew Mulder to him. The warmth of Mulder's body felt so good, so natural. He began to kiss those pouting lips that he had dreamed about so often. Mulder gladly returned kiss for kiss.

"I've wanted this to happen for a long time," confessed Skinner.

"Me too."

Mulder reached down and began to stroke Skinner's cock. As he stroked, it began to become erect again.

"You devil," Skinner whispered into his ear.

Skinner rolled over on top of the younger man. Penis was rubbing penis. The friction caused him to begin to pump his hips as the younger man drew up his knees.

"I want you inside me, Walter."

"Are you sure?"

"God, yes Walter. I want you to fuck me," Mulder said looking up into Skinner's eyes.

The older man got up and walked into the kitchen. When he returned he held a tube. "Lubrication." He opened the tube and squeezed the cool gel onto Mulder's opening. He then placed a finger inside the tight hole. When he felt the younger man relax he inserted a second finger.

"Hurry up."

Slowly Skinner positioned his swollen cock against the opening of Mulder's ass. He knew enough not to rush this part. Patience was what was needed. He pressed the tip of his cock into Mulder's waiting hole. He felt Mulder exhale. Exerting more pressure, he felt his penis entering the stretching opening. He stopped again and waited until he felt the muscles relax around his shaft. Then, he slid his entire length into the younger man.

Fox felt Skinner's cock enter him, and he winced with pain. But then, where pain had been, pleasure began to fill him. Finally, Walter was fully inside of him. He was big. It felt wonderful. Then, he began to move.

Reaching down, Skinner took Mulder's cock in his hand and stroked him with every thrust. He hadn't felt this amount of sexual pleasure in years. With each pump of his hips, he was drawn higher into ecstasy. In his hand he could feel Mulder's engorged penis begin to throb. The younger man's lips were pressed onto his. Their tongues were entwined.

As he neared climax, Skinner began to pump harder. With one last plunge, he screamed as he exploded inside Mulder. At the same moment, the younger man arched upwards and Skinner felt hot liquid sliding over his hand.

Long moments later, Skinner collapsed down onto Mulder. Mulder held him and continued to shower kisses over his face. 

"It's as good as I'd dreamed it would be," said Mulder. "I've wanted you for a long time.

"Well, you've got me, Fox. And I'm not going to let you go."

"You better not," Mulder managed to say as sleep began to overtake him.

"Merry Christmas," Skinner said as he laid his head on Mulder's chest.

"Merry Christmas, Walter," yawned the younger man as he fell asleep in the embrace of his lover. 


End file.
